


Through Shadows Falling

by tempered_rose



Series: Realm Verse [2]
Category: Football RPF, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Everything Hurts, Feels, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Long Shot, M/M, Magic, Male Friendship, One Shot, Read the other one first, Read this one second, Sequel, Spoilers, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is invited to dinner at Bastian and Lukas' house and he has to decide if he should go. Meanwhile, he thinks about the three men he has admired the most in his youth and why Miroslav couldn't have stayed a little longer despite what fate intended.</p><p>Or: A really long one-shot that supplements '<i>Miroslav Klose and the Fate of the Dragon</i>' and will act as a spring-board into the actual sequel that is on its way. Please read the <i>Fate of the Dragon</i> before this one, or you may be confused, though if you really wanted to it could be a stand alone, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Shadows Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hello there. No, I couldn't let this universe go. And holy God, this is the longest one-shot I have ever written. And I'm not kidding about that. It really is the longest stand-alone fic I have ever done. *gulps* From the summary, you can see that this is a mid-ground fic. It is for those, like myself, who didn't want to let the dragon's universe go, but who also couldn't wait for the sequel.
> 
> If you read it, I suggest listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shdiTRxTJb4) for sure before, after, or during the time you read. The title came from one of the lines in that wonderful, awful song. Also I would completely recommend reading the original story first, or you may not catch everything. Enjoy! Again, not sure if that's the right word to use...either way, let me know what you think :)

There were few moments when Thomas would let himself dream that didn’t happen at night, at night when he couldn’t control his mind and the horrible nightmares that lingered there. In the daylight, rare were the times where he would let his mind wander to whatever took his fancy, though it was always to the same place with the same person in those idle moments. In those times, he would take Miroslav’s hand like he used to and together they would venture into the realm of what could have been.

He lingered at the edge of slipping away into the thoughts he wished were reality while another decision he needed to make first teetered on the edge of the knife. The open invitation lingered on his desk, what had once been his uncle’s desk, and he tapped the parchment with his finger. Dinner in East Milton, with Bastian and Lukas at their house.

It wasn’t that he was opposed to seeing his friends again, far from it. He had missed the two boys that could bring warmth and light into any dark corner of the world. They had saved him many times from such a fate, though he doubted they knew to the extent of his gratitude, but they had made it clear that they would accept nothing for their friendship, apart from dinner every so often or lunch if he could spare the time.

Thomas considered the invitation, sliding into the present side of his thoughts and the realities of the world resumed the forefront of his mind. Just how miserable did he want to feel tonight? Most certainly no matter what decision he made, he would still feel the effects of his anguish. But if he went, the misery would be of another sort than if he just sat in the castle or strolled through the empty halls while his people thrived around him despite the coldness of the seasons’ change. If he went, his misery would be that of watching two people so completely in love be so completely happy. He was happy for his friends, truly, but it made him feel so much worse knowing that it would never be that way for himself. There had only been One for him, and that man was gone, buried the better part of a year now.

If he stayed in Ansieál, Thomas knew that the melancholy of a hundred lost chances to say what he had desperately needed to would haunt him until he fell asleep, either in the Scarlet Tower itself or in his chambers. No matter where he would spend the night, the nightmares would undoubtedly chase find him there, as they had since the night the Tower fell. It pained him to know that things could have been different if only he had spoken up and said something beforehand. Perhaps they could have come up with a new plan? Perhaps fate could have been kinder? Perhaps things would have changed and Miro wouldn’t have had to die. For a brief spell, Thomas would get a little angry at Miroslav also; the Wizard could have spoken just as easily as Thomas could have done.

They could have talked about it; they _should_ have talked about it. Thomas sighed. Round and round his mind would spiral, round and round he would spin until the clutches of the darkness would drag him down into the fatigue of loss and where the wolves of the dreams he feared would swallow him whole.

Heavy was his heart as he considered the invitation.

It was addressed solely to him, and it was not the first time his friends had so courteously offered to share their meager dinner with him. It wasn’t the first time he had faced this dilemma, either. He had even gone before though he was quieter than he used to be, before the Quest, before the battle, before everything had changed back when Jürgen was still the king and no one could have imagined differently, least of all Thomas. Before, when his mother was someone Thomas could trust and love more than anyone except a special few instead of the traitorous witch she had turned out to be. His shame, his eternal shame was to have her name, to be _her_ son, her kin.

‘It cannot be helped, sire.’ Manuel had told him once, a few days after it had all transpired. ‘You cannot help who your kin is.’

Thomas knew some of what Manuel had gone through when he had had to travel to the Elven realm to seek solace there once his mother had died. He did not know everything, however, though he could assume based on what Manuel had said and more by what he had left unspoken. His friend knew what it was like to be shamed for the sins of one’s mother, but what Manuel could not, nor would not ever, be able to understand and empathize with would be the pain of knowing your mother had had the man who had been like a father to you, the King of the realm, murdered to further her own gain, and not even in favor of her own blood!

Bile rose in his throat when he thought of it all. His shame was her shame, a sin he was cursed to endure for her actions. Thomas turned away from the invitation as he rose to get up and look out over the window. From here, the hills of Carda and the tall grasses that covered them appeared golden due to the early afternoon’s sunlight that splashed across them and held them entranced in their glow. If Thomas asked for it, Tobias could magic him over to Bastian’s for dinner and then he could come back the same way if he desired. Tobias had done it before. In fact, Tobias was becoming very good at the entire teleportation experiment he had been working on. Thomas suspected he should be concerned, but for now considered it to be harmless fun, an experiment and nothing more.

Tobias had proved himself a worthy servant in the days that had followed the battle, especially that Antiá was in dire need of a wizard. While Tobias was not a full-fledged Wizard, he would do in the meanwhile. He had been one of Miro’s brightest pupils, and that was not a bad resumé to have. Tobias had gone round, at Thomas’ behest, to make sure that everyone who had been touched by Klaudia’s curse was well seen to and would not have any lasting side-effects. He wished no ill will towards them all.

Thomas had been very honest with everyone about the events as they had transpired, up until the part of the tower and Miroslav’s death came into question. As for Miroslav and himself, the people knew that the connection between the Wizard and the Heir had been one of great friendship and perhaps a few more suspected that it had been more than that. Thomas could hardly blame them, as close as he and Miroslav had once been. But as it was, they had shared one kiss only, the only kiss Thomas would ever recall with both fondness and great sorrow, one kiss before Miroslav had died and one kiss that had sealed their bond forever.

So much he had lost in such little space of time. First his uncle, then his mother, then his greatest advisor and most treasured love in one person. How could a normal person survive such loss? How could anyone live through such pain? Such betrayal?

Thomas was driving himself heartsick with the thoughts that he could not stop, not even after months upon months. Almost a full year it had been, the Tower had been mostly rebuilt and the castle wall appeared as if nothing had ever happened to it. The people were happily content again; things were even prosperous in the lands beyond Ansieál. There would be a good crop this year, plenty of food, no draughts and no famines in sight. It would be a good first year under the new reign of King Thomas, the Brave, as he had been called. He felt unworthy of such a title. He had not been brave, Miroslav had been brave. Miroslav had died being brave. Miroslav had been the greatest warrior in the realm, it had been he who deserved such a title and all the tidings that came with it. Thomas lingered repeatedly on the thought that Miroslav had deserved the crown and Thomas had deserved the place in that marble tomb downstairs. He would have exchanged places, readily. He would have done so, if only the Valkyrie had given him the option.

But of course they hadn’t because that was not to be the way of things, and so peace had returned to the world and the Age that had begun after the battle seemed as if it would continue along just as the Age before it had with peace and prosperity. Few people had any great worries, especially now that the dragon was gone.

Thomas had also amended that part of the story as well to the common folk, but not to the members of the company—the only ones who knew the truth of everything, except for the parts about Miroslav.

In his official account, he had simply stated that the dragon and Klaudia combined had killed the wizard and he would not speak more on the subject. No one pushed him either, though they must have been curious. Whispers likely spread about what had caused the dragon to fly off the tower in a rage and into the river. And there had been no body to be found. That part of the story was missing a few details, and Thomas suspected that one day someone would ask for the full story. He hoped that day was a great many days away, because he wasn’t sure what lie he could concoct to cover up the truth of Robert’s actions and his role in the entire affair.

Tobias had told him in the hours afterward, when Thomas had recovered, what Robert had done and who he really was along with his great part in the entire story. For a few brief moments, Thomas thought he could hate this man. Hate him for having taken Miroslav from him, but he never really believed that even as he thought it. It had not been Robert that had done anything. Robert had not been in control of his actions anyway. In fact, it had been Robert that was the true hero of the battle apart from Miroslav’s cool head and logical thinking. If it had not been for Robert’s defiance, his rebellion, then perhaps they would all still be under Klaudia’s control, Thomas may have been killed, and Joachim would have been the king at the end of it.

With respect and a complete yet silent pardon, Thomas had welcomed Robert to court and they all pretended that he had just been abroad for a good long while in the Otherlands and Beyond. Mats had even offered to lie to supplement the tale to make it more believable. Robert had politely declined because his sudden reappearance after so long of being away would not bode well for his stern adherence to privacy, let alone if he had been abroad in the company of a pirate. He never would have any peace after that.

Thomas had of course granted him leave to return to his home in Vasha to mourn his wife and their child and the future that he thought he had fought to save. Perhaps, if there had been anyone alive that could understand just how he was feeling, it was in fact Robert. Thomas couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be woken from a curse to find that the person you thought you were saving never lived past the night you tried to save them. To live in eternal darkness, never knowing but always hoping, it was a burden that Thomas wished he could help the other man bear. Perhaps in a way he was helping him bear it because he could understand that hope. The hope that one day in the future Miro could somehow return, hoping that one day they could have the future that they were so horribly denied.

He had considered asking Tobias about it, but the shame of asking stopped him. It would be very evident why he would be asking to find a way to revive someone who had passed into the Beyond and he wouldn’t risk the embarrassment. Besides, that wasn’t how he wanted Miroslav anyway. He didn’t want a ghost or phantom spirit; he wanted flesh, blood, and a beating heart to call his own. He wanted the Wizard as he had once been, the man he had admired, back but it was impossible. In this Age of new possibility, the one thing Thomas really wanted more than his own life was impossible. The burden of it sat heavy and cold in his belly as day after day it lingered there.

Thomas had told Robert that the castle in Ansieál and his court was always welcome to him, should he ever care to come around and that no ill will was held against him. He had vowed to keep the other man’s secret and Robert had thanked him before he had travelled home in the east. As Thomas had watched him ride across the bridge over the West Fork, Thomas wondered if the other man would ever come back. Would he blame him if he didn’t? Not in the least. Shame was a powerful crutch, and a worse friend. If Thomas could, he thought one day he might just ride off like that, alone with only a horse for companionship and disappear into the wild. If he wasn’t King, if he didn’t have responsibility, he would have.

The sun continued to shine over the hills and Thomas rested his head against the glass of the window. The seasons were changing and winter would be returning; those very fields on the other side of the river would be coated thickly in white as the snows fell, leisurely at first, but more frequently as they would endure throughout the season until spring would return. Thomas had never much cared for winter; it was too cold. After having spent a good portion of one in the Western Mountains last year, including being buried under feet of snow, Thomas did not think he would care for winter ever in his life.

The sound of laughter echoed from below, and Thomas lowered his eyes to see a little boy running through the streets, chased by an older man, the boy’s father it appeared. Thomas watched them both as they shared a moment of joy, running through stone streets before they were lost into the crowd of people and he could watch them no more. _Such happiness_ , he was envious of the pair. His only father-figure was gone, along with a man to have been admired, as well as his boyhood hero. All three men gone, disappeared from the pages of history as if they had never been. Thomas hoped that the writers of the realm or at least the poets would remember the first and the last more than they would recall the second man, for the first and last were the ones to remember. Where one had been the great lion, the other was the cunning fox. Both were admirable gentlemen and great scholars and men of peace. The second man had once been great but had somewhere gotten lost in mystery and shadow, the way a crow lingers in the dark.

Thomas tapped the sill of the window and he looked at the crowds beyond in the streets. It was decided then. He would go to dinner tonight, if only to forget. Staying inside was driving him mad, and he needed fresh air before he went the way Joachim had by slipping into madness.

Thomas turned away from the window and went in a search to find Tobias to inform him of his decision and his need for the other man’s ability to transport him across the many miles that separated Ansieál from East Milton. He didn’t quite care how he would come back, whether it be on horseback or walking. Thomas knew that for tonight at least, he did not particularly want to be miserable on his own. He could survive a few hours in the presence of the happiest, kindest people he knew and be all right with it. He left the study behind him and sought out his new magician.

\---

At his earliest memory, there was always one man that stood out. In fact, his earliest memory was _of_ that one man: the King. Jürgen had treated Thomas as if he were his own son since the day the boy drew his first breath. There was no one that Thomas would consider a father to him apart from Jürgen, anyway, had his own father survived the illness that had come the winter before he had been born. Jürgen and Klaudia, nor anyone else ever mentioned his real father, though he had been assured he had been a great man.

Thomas’ earliest memory that he could recall was vague; Thomas couldn’t remember how old he had been, two maybe, or perhaps three. He wasn’t sure; it didn’t matter. He had still been small easily able to be lifted. He had been reading or coloring, or something in the Hall of Glass—a stretch near the gardens of the castle that was just a large corridor of glass windows, some opened into the courtyard, and it was one of the best places for natural light to come in without actually having to go outside. Thomas adored it there.

He had been coloring when suddenly two very strong hands had lifted him straight into the air. Yelping at first from surprise, Thomas had suddenly burst into giggles when the familiar sight and smell of his Uncle had greeted him. He let Jürgen lift him high into the air and let him pretend he could fly. Thomas’ laughs had been loud and had made the King smile brighter than the sun could ever shine.

Thomas could still remember the joy he had felt then, the joy when he had believed that he could fly. He could remember lots of things about Jürgen that he would never want to forget. Thomas usually compared his Uncle to that of a great lion: strong and fearless, yet bold and brave. It wasn’t just the blond hair and blue eyes that led to that thought, either. Jürgen could control the room without shouting, his authority was absolute and he did not need to show his claws to get what he wanted. He had no need for threats because he had the power, the respect of his subjects and all he liked to do with that authority was spend time with his nephew and make sure everyone else was happy and that peace forever endured in the kingdom.

Jürgen had taught him many things from his earliest childhood and into his adult maturity; as such, he was the first man Thomas had ever respected and admired and would always do so. Jürgen had taught him all things that boys needed to know and made sure that if Thomas had a worry over something that he did not need to fear. Whatever he needed, it could be taken care of. Thomas felt safe growing up in the castle, safe whenever his uncle was around. He didn’t need to worry; he knew it and he basked in it. He had forsaken that it would always be there.

When he had been around six, Jürgen had taught him to ride his first pony. Just like all other horses found in the lowlands of Antiá, even the pony came up to Jürgen’s chest and dwarfed Thomas entirely. Klaudia had been against it. She hadn’t wanted Thomas to hurt himself—an irony, Thomas thought whenever he lingered on the memory—but Jürgen had insisted and he won his bout; if anyone defied the king, they were a fool to do so. So Thomas had been lifted by Jürgen himself and set lightly on the back of the black pony. There had been no saddle and the only set of reigns available was the creature’s mane since it was long. The fur of the creature was thick with its winter coat.

Thomas remembered the wariness he felt at being off of the ground for the first time. He felt wobbly like he would topple over the side of the horse and he was incredibly afraid of hurting it. He had heard, and seen, horses bolt from being afraid or shying away from loud noises. He was so afraid the horse was going to take off with him on its back. He looked at Jürgen with wide eyes and his hands gripped part of the pony’s mane, yet gently still because he didn’t want to pinch and hurt the poor horse.

“Relax, Thomas. Just breathe.” Jürgen instructed patiently as he rubbed the horse’s neck and Thomas’ back alternately. He gave a reassuringly warm smile and winked, causing Thomas to giggle, which eased his nerves almost instantaneously.

Jürgen clipped a lead to the halter that the pony wore around his head, and led the horse slowly from the garden. They were going nowhere except around the castle’s lawns and Thomas slowly got used to the rocking movement of the beast underneath him as it took slow, paced steps in time with Jürgen’s own footsteps on the grass. As they walked, Jürgen told him of the great respect a man needed to have for his horse. Thomas listened, he promised he did, but he was extremely worried about falling off and getting hurt. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him from the stable yard and he was determined not to fall.

“Care to try it on your own?” Jürgen asked after pausing by a small pond. Thomas, eager to try and impress his Uncle but still acutely anxious, nodded and Jürgen smiled. He moved around, looping the end of the lead through the halter to make a makeshift set of reigns, which he then handed over the horse’s head to Thomas. “I will be right here. Go easy, Thomas.”

Thomas nodded and he gripped the rope in his hand the way Jürgen had shown him and he lightly tapped the sides of the horse like Jürgen had taken his foot and gently showed him how to do. As the pony moved forward, Thomas’ face broke into a wide grin. He had done it—and he hadn’t fallen off! Jürgen walked along beside him as they continued their bout around the grounds. The pride in his uncle’s face was worth risking something new, Thomas thought as he continued to adjust to the feel of a great pony underneath his body.

\---

Thomas arrived on the main road to East Milton with almost twenty minutes to spare, thanks to Tobias’ effortless ability. He really was getting good at this. The pair walked down the road, amongst the curiosity of the villagers. They still did not trust outsiders, and especially ones that could either appear or disappear at their own discretion. Thomas made a mental note to see if Bastian couldn’t do something about his neighbors being afraid of magic. Honestly, they really didn’t have a reason to be so narrow-minded and wary of foreigners…

Tobias knocked on the well-weathered door of his parent’s, now Bastian’s, house and he waited next to Thomas for a response. It took a few moments of scrambling before the sound of footsteps rapidly approached the door and soon the wooden thing was thrown open with a loud creak. Bastian first saw his brother and his grin widened considerably.

“Now who invited you?” he asked teasingly and then threw his arms around his brother; belying his words with affection was a talent that Bastian was incredibly skilled at.

“Nice to see you too, little brother.” Tobias replied before he pulled back. “I came to deliver your dinner guest. My apologies, I cannot stay myself.”

Tobias shared a look with Thomas and the King nodded once. Tobias was on his own missions these days, experimenting and travelling as Miroslav had once done. Not all of them he told the King about. Thomas swallowed hard. _Don’t think of Miroslav now. I’ve only just arrived. The sadness can wait._

Bastian began fussing like a mother hen about Tobias just running off and never staying, but only after he had invited Thomas into the house to avoid ‘catching a chill in this weather’. Thomas would have to think of a really good excuse to say he was going to walk back to the capital, if that’s how Bastian was going to behave about the cool evening. The beginnings of an argument started behind him as he walked into the modest house that housed the two friends that were the most odd, most normal people Thomas knew.

Lukas was pulling a fresh loaf of bread from the oven in the extremely small-yet-welcoming kitchen. He grinned brightly when he saw Thomas standing in the doorway.

“Greetings, your Majesty. Dinner’s about done.” Lukas replied and set the pan down to let it cool before he removed the linen he had used to pull the scorching pan from the oven. He then came over to shake Thomas’ hand. Thomas had abolished the rules of protocol for his friends, the members of the company, but still they teased him sometimes with his titles or other gestures, simply because they knew it would irritate him a little. They could get away with it, but anyone else was another story.

Thomas shook Lukas’ hand and gave him a small smile. “Nice to see you again so soon.”

Thomas was referring to the last time he had come around for dinner. It had been, at most, two weeks prior.

“It’s an open invitation, any time you like but you already know that.” Lukas said as the argument between the brothers in the hallway ended abruptly, ended with a slammed door and Bastian huffing loudly. “Though perhaps you should use your sovereign command to order Tobias to stay next time, hmm?”

Bastian entered then, scooting around Thomas and Lukas in the doorway and moved over to the few pots on the fire in the hearth. “As if I would ever invite my brother over for dinner. _You_ , Thomas, yes, are always invited of course. Tobias—” Bastian then huffed and made a sound that Thomas took to be that of Bastian expressing his displeasure at the thought of it. Thomas smiled a little more at that. Of course Bastian would invite Tobias over for dinner, neither brother could hold a grudge for long, and it was always over small things in the first place. Thomas almost wished he had a brother to know what that felt like.

\---

Before the events of the previous year had transpired, before Thomas and the rest of the world had known what he was really like, he had once looked up to Joachim, _Jogi_ , also. There had been no one wiser in the kingdom, Thomas had thought. No one that could be considered a more well-versed scholar. Jogi had been his Uncle’s most chief advisor apart from Miroslav; he had had the closest position available to the king and, as a result, to Thomas.

More often than not when Thomas had been little more than a toddler, if he ever went to see his Uncle or vice-versa, the dark-haired man would be ever-present and watching their interactions, always lingering behind a few steps or seated just behind Jürgen’s shoulder. Thomas had just come to accept these things as facts. Where Jürgen would be, Joachim would be close by. He hadn’t minded the other man’s presence nor once did he ever feel uncomfortable around him. Jogi would smile at him, indulge his many questions when he was learning, and would always allow him time to see Jürgen if Thomas so desired.

It was Jogi that had been the overseer of his education, with Jürgen’s final approval of course. But it had been Joachim who had produced the finest tutors that could be found to further Thomas’ studies. If ever Thomas had been confused about something, he could have gone to the man who Jürgen called his best friend and ask him. He was never made to feel stupid. He was never made to feel inferior or idiotic because he did not understand something. Joachim would patiently explain the topic in a way so Thomas could understand, and it did not matter the subject. From history to art to language to maths, Jogi could explain it. He was a natural teacher and Thomas had learned much from him.

After having such a brilliant mind, there was one part of Joachim’s persona that had never fully developed and as such, it had not been Jogi to teach Thomas about the things of magic. It wasn’t that Joachim didn’t know how. He understood the concepts, the ideas, the incantations, and even the recipes of the potions. He was extremely well-versed in the arts of the Elven ways also. He could read their language, speak the words of their spells, but what he could not do was force his body to posses the ability to sustain the power. As a result, he could only perform the most basic of magical tasks before it became too taxing on his person and he would have to cease. It was a shame really; Thomas could look back on it now and see just how much it had frustrated the man. It was one of those unfortunate circumstances where it wasn’t a lack of desire for wanting to do something, it was just the unfortunate fact that his body could not handle it. He was too weak.

Despite this annoyance of his own failings, Jogi had been kind to him; Jogi had acted more like an uncle to him where Jürgen had been more like a father. The two were so inseparable and so much like alpha and omega that Thomas still could not believe what Joachim had done. He hadn’t wanted to.

And for the longest time, Thomas had only wondered about what to do with Joachim. Where his mother had died, she was no longer a threat to anyone. Thomas was only slightly disturbed at how little the fact of her passing had affected him, but he always told himself that he could think about that later. While she had died, though, Joachim had survived and his mind had slipped from his control as much as the tower had fallen to his feet. His brilliant, special mind had given over to the corruption of the black magic, a magic he could not control, and he had been pulled under into the depths of madness and had not recovered. Thomas wondered if his mother had been controlling him also, or if he had just let himself be taken over with the darkness that he couldn’t come back from it.

In the end, Thomas had done nothing with him except for put him away in a prison just a few miles up the West Fork, half way to Usher. Because, in the end, Thomas had decided that whatever Joachim’s mind was doing to and of itself was punishment enough. He could only imagine the thoughts going in there. He could only imagine the horrors, and it wasn’t something he cared to linger on.

And every so often, Thomas would have a report from the commander of the guards of the prison in which Joachim had been put away. It was those reports that unsettled Thomas the most because of the variety that could come to him week after week after week. The lack of consistency scared Thomas a little because he didn’t know what to expect next. Joachim’s continued existence was a nudge in the back of his mind constantly and he wouldn’t know what to do with it. The first report had come a few days after Joachim had arrived; Thomas had asked for routine updates to make sure all would be as well as could be considering, and he had not been disappointed thus far.

‘Your Majesty,’ the guard had written in proficient and neat penmanship on the parchment. ‘I write to inform you of the progress of the prisoner in which you expressed your interest. The former advisor to your Uncle, the Great King Jürgen, has arrived to us well in hand. He is quiet, and for that we are grateful. We have kept him in a room as you described in your orders, completed with soft lined walls and a room with no windows for his own protection, and ours. He sits there quietly, interacts with no one, and seems to be content enough in solitude. I expect this will continue for some time because how out-of-sorts he appears. With best regards and wishes to your person, Your Majesty, Yours,’ and then he had signed his name with the same expert efficiency, ‘Roman Weidenfeller’.

Thomas had relaxed minutely after reading the warden’s words and he had congratulated himself on a job well done of having made the correct choice. He had then carried on with making sure no one had been harmed and that the repairs to the castle were underway. So he maintained this behavior without too much worry, until the next missive came a few weeks later. When Thomas had read _those_ words, his blood had chilled and the hairs on his neck had raised.

The penmanship had become slightly more erratic, perhaps a little more frantic, but still it was legible and it read:

‘Your Majesty, it is with greatest haste I write these words to you. Our special guest—as he has taken to calling himself—has completely altered his behavior from the last I described. The development has come over such a time I did not think to write you sooner because it was not apparent anything was significantly changed. Yet now, instead of silence on the former advisor’s behalf, there is screaming. Screaming at all hours, screaming into the night, screaming and only screaming. The words he utters make no sense in any language I have ever before understood, nor can anyone in our prison translate it. He stares at the walls for hours on end when he does lapse into silence. When he is bothered to make eye contact with the guards, they all grow afraid of him. I confess myself growing ever wary of our guest. I urge you to send a relief of guard to us, Sire, if only so some of us can get a break from him. Yours most urgently and respectfully, Roman W.’

Thomas had felt anxious at this report. It hadn’t made any sense. Why would Joachim suddenly change from silent to a non-stop shouting madman? Possession? He had thought initially, but he had no way to confirm or deny that. He wasn’t about to send anyone to test it. Tobias was the only one that was capable of such a thing anyway and Thomas _needed_ him around now. But nor could he allow whatever was going on with Joachim to continue. If one of the bravest men Thomas knew, because that’s exactly what Roman was, was growing wary of Joachim’s presence in his prison, enough so that he wrote his sovereign about it, then Thomas could only imagine what was really going on up there.

He had consulted Tobias and Manuel on the issue. Both of them advised sending a cleansing to the prison and, if needed, someone who could perform an exorcism. It couldn’t hurt, they had said, and it would ward off any ill will. Thomas had ordered it so, and the next letter he had received from Roman was a little smoother. Thomas relaxed and as the weeks stretched longer, the letters became less and less frequent and more and more deescalated. There had not been one as frantically written as that second one had been.

Thomas had been grateful. He wasn’t sure what he would have had to do otherwise. He didn’t think he could order the death of the final man who allowed him to have nostalgia of his childhood. He would have done so if it had come down to it. There would not have been any other options. But he wouldn’t have enjoyed doing it, and he would have felt guilty, most certainly He was relieved that he did not have to make that choice.

\---

Thomas was leaning back in the armchair nearest the fire after dinner had been over. He had offered multiple times to help with the dishes, but Lukas would have none of it. The pair of them were in the kitchen, finishing up with the washing while Thomas sat and looked into the fireplace. The soft crackles and pops that the wood made as the fire licked the pinewood was peaceful and the smell of it brought a kind tranquility to the house. Everything about Bastian and Lukas brought peace, calm, and bliss to the world.

Thomas found it easy to relax in their company; he guessed that’s why Miroslav had let them come along on the journey also, despite their lack of swordsmanship, soldiering ability, hunting prowess or anything else that had been especially useful. Sure, Bastian had managed to find them dinner occasionally and had even helped cook it, while Lukas had been a deft fisherman and lookout, but they had mostly been two wide-eyed boys hungry for adventure on the road for it.

Thomas had never been more grateful for two companions that could help one relax when it was needed most. There was something about their personable nature that could get into someone’s mind and relax them at once. Thomas was grateful for their gift, though he was like Miroslav. There had to be something special about them other than their humanity; no one could be so kind and generous, could they?

“Well that is all done,” Bastian announced as they walked back into the small living room that Thomas had found himself in. He smiled at his hosts as they took their seats on the sofa nearest the fire and he watched as they curled into one another as if they truly were two halves of the same whole. Thomas watched them enviously. “How are you Thomas?”

Bastian asked, watching him with great concern and Thomas resisted a sigh. He didn’t want to speak of his feelings; he didn’t want to bring them up at all. He should have known better. Instead of speaking, he shrugged earning a pout from Bastian in the process. Lukas smiled a half-smile at him and tapped Bastian on the shoulder. That was all he did and Bastian cleared his expression. The topic would likely be brought up again but all Lukas had done to spare him had been tap Bastian on the shoulder. So much communication in a simple gesture. _How could you do that?_

“Are you two sure you’re only human?” Thomas asked after a moment, earning an amused laugh from the other two.

“Yes! We aren’t special at all.” Bastian smiled and snuggled close to Lukas. Thomas shook his head. Remarkable.

“We can make up the room upstairs for you?” Lukas offered as the clock on the mantle began to chime the hour, nearing midnight. It was late.

Thomas shook his head. “Thank you, but I should be returning.”

“How are you going to get home?” Bastian asked with a raised eyebrow. The question Thomas had been avoiding all night. If he told the truth, Bastian would never let him leave at least until the morning. If he lied, then that would be dishonest to someone that was never deceitful and he would feel extremely low for having lied. If he stayed the night, then there was the chance he would worry his friends if he had a nightmare, which he would most certainly have one.

“I was going to meet Tobias on the road and go back that way.” He lied. Bastian didn’t believe him, as was clear from the look on his face.

“Then we can walk you until he arrives.” Bastian started to get up and Thomas stuck out his hand and cried out a negative. Bastian leaned back into Lukas’ hold with an ‘I knew it’ look on his face. Thomas had been caught in his flimsy trap.

“You can stay, Thomas. I promise it would be all right.” Lukas replied again softly. Thomas nodded and conceded after a while. He wasn’t going to fight them both, he couldn’t. Besides, their benevolence was a rare gift in this village and there was no way he would stay at the inn. The memory of the only night he ever spent there was burned into his mind and he would not dare relive it in the very room in which it occurred.

Lukas smiled and got up to ready the bedroom, leaving Bastian alone and in front of the fireplace. Thomas looked back to the flames and inhaled the fresh smell of the spices that lingered from dinner. They both really were a wonderful cooks; he would get fat for sure if he continued to come over for dinner all the time.

“I just worry over you is all, Thomas.” Bastian spoke quietly. Thomas didn’t look over to see the expression on his face; he could guess what it was. “I know it isn’t easy. But we are here for you if you ever decide to talk to anyone about it.”

Bastian lapsed off into silence and Thomas resigned himself to the quiet of the evening. He was more worried now about how he would control himself when the nightmares would come. Undoubtedly, they would hear him. How would he explain them away? Thomas remained tense, even when Lukas returned downstairs to inform him that the guest room was ready and waiting on him.

\---

Thomas wished he could say that he remembered the day he first saw Miroslav, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure if he knew when exactly it had been. Sometimes Miroslav had been there when he was growing up, but for the most part he hadn’t been. Thomas never really knew where the Wizard had gone or what he had gotten up to, but it had to have been wonderful because every time he would return, he would return with such great stories, stories of heroism and bravery, majesty and excellence, love and beauty—though Thomas wouldn’t admit to liking those parts, even though he did—that would put any other storybook tale to shame because it could not compare in the grandeur with the tales Miroslav would tell.

Many days of Thomas’ childhood were spent at the feet of Mirsolav as they would sit by the Western Fork out of the reach of the castle with two fishing lines cast into the water and waiting for something to bite. As they waited with the sun shining upon both of them, Miroslav would first ask him what kind of story he would want to hear before he would go off in the direction Thomas had nudged him. He could captivate and paint such wonderful pictures that Thomas could not imagine them, though he tried very hard to. They would stay out late into the afternoon until the sun had faded and they would have to walk back to the castle. It would be dark before they arrived more times than it wasn’t and every time, Thomas was always sad to say good night to him.

There had always been the fear that when he awoke, Miroslav would be gone. He was worse than the seasons; he did not stay for more than a week at a time, and that was considered a lengthy visit, before he would be gone again for weeks and months on end. He had never gotten the chance to ask Miroslav where he had gone to or what he was doing, but he had asked Joachim once. The wise man had simply shrugged and stated that he did not know either and they had resumed Thomas’ lesson. The curiosity never faded but Thomas still did not have an answer. He guessed now he never would know. Another thing he had not had the chance to ask the man before he had gone for good.

Another recollection he had was when he was a little older, around eight, when the time had come to find out who the Wizard would take as a pupil. Thomas had made sure his studies went exceptionally well and he showed an aptitude for learning so that Miroslav could take him too. Every generation it varied on what type of person and how many Miroslav would select to learn the ways of magic, especially the Elven kind, and Thomas tried in vain to make himself worthy of such a position. He made sure on the day of the choice that he was wearing his best set of clothes and that he had made sure to wash his face and comb his hair. As he stood in the hall with the other children, aged from six to fourteen, they all appeared eager and ready to learn. Thomas did not care that he was the heir apparent to the crown, he wanted _this_ position more than any other.

When it came time for the choice, Miroslav went down the line, accompanied by Jürgen and Joachim, and asked each child one question. He would listen to their answer, smile politely, and move on to the next. When it came time for Thomas’ question, their eyes met. Thomas thought he also had the advantage because of all the summer afternoons he and the Wizard had shared. He was a shoo-in surely. He would never forget the question Miroslav asked him.

“What is better to have: toast with jam on a Tuesday, or tea with milk on Thursdays?” Miroslav asked with a raised eyebrow. Thomas had giggled, making Miroslav smile perhaps a little more genuinely than the others. Thomas had answered toast with jam and Miroslav had nodded once before moving to the other children until he finished shortly thereafter. There had not been words to describe how Thomas had felt when Miroslav announced the young six-year-old Tobias to be his new apprentice. Thomas’ eyes had welled up with hurt but he had not shed the tears, he kept that much of his control, as he left the room with the other rejections.

He had not returned to his rooms after that, but gone straight up to the tower. As he climbed the stairs, tears blurred his vision and he unbuttoned the shirt he’d been wearing because he couldn’t breathe properly with it fastened like that. He had made it to the top of the tower and wrapped his arms around his knees as he sat on the ground and cried in disappointment, uncaring that his trousers were going to get dirty.

Thomas wasn’t sure how long he had stayed up there, but the sun was well on its way to rest before he realized that the evening had grown quite cool. He shivered as he sniffled hard, tears and mucous mixing unpleasantly as he did so. He paused when he heard patient footsteps coming up the stairs and then the door opened and his heart sank. Miroslav. The Wizard came over to him and he didn’t speak, not at first. He simply sat next to the boy and looked at the sky, whose stars were beginning to come out.

“Your uncle was worried about you. He’s had the staff and himself looking for you all afternoon.” Miroslav said after a few moments as he looked to the stars, giving Thomas a few moments of privacy. “You’re upset with me.”

He looked down then and Thomas didn’t question how he knew, but looking at it now, it was rather obvious. He sniffled again and nodded. Miroslav shook his head with a small smile. “Thomas, you are destined for great things. I know this to be true. You don’t need to be my pupil to be this person.”

“But I wanted to be.” Thomas whispered. Something in him _needed_ Miroslav’s approval, needed to be closer to the other man. It was a sense that he couldn’t explain, a fact that was truth but why he wasn’t sure about the substance behind it. All he knew was that it needed to be so.

“I know,” Miroslav replied gently and looked kindly into Thomas’ face. “I know you did. But trust me, you should focus your attentions elsewhere where they can be more properly appreciated. I can still teach you about magic; I won’t deny you that by any means. You do have a great ability for it.”

“Just not good enough, right?” Thomas huffed and scrambled up to go overlook the wall at the shining lights of the lanterns of the city below as darkness gathered.

“Thomas, it isn’t like that.” Miroslav replied and stayed where he was. He remained quiet for a moment, watching the boy as he overlooked the city, until the point where Thomas looked to the stars in the sky like Miroslav had done.

“What really is bothering you?” Miroslav asked after a moment and Thomas spoke softly again.

“I want to see you more.” He lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet on the stone floor of the tower. “You never are around and,” he shrugged, “I just thought I could see you more if I was learning from you.”

His words trailed out at the end and Miroslav shook his head before he got up. Lightly, he brushed off his rear where he had been sitting and moved over to rest a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. The boy reluctantly lifted his eyes and looked into the older man’s face and saw the same kindness that was always there radiating back to him.

“If you want to spend more time with me, it can be done. You don’t have to be my pupil for that.” Miroslav replied with a smile.

A lightness filled Thomas then as he moved forward to hug the wizard. Miroslav had returned the gesture and then for a while thereafter, they had both laid on top of the Scarlet Tower and looked at the stars. They laid there so long with Miroslav pointing out the constellations that Thomas’ stomach began to rumble and they had to go inside to find him food before it would cease. And in the years that followed that night, Miroslav did keep his word to Thomas. Where his visits before had been sporadic and unpredictable, they became more regular and scheduled. He was still gone for long periods of time, but when he returned, it was when the seasons changed and he would stay for almost a week every time. For Thomas, there was no happier time of the year, not even his birthday could excite him the way seeing Miroslav coming down the road would appeal to him.

\---

The darkness of the house surrounded him, only the thin sliver of silver light from the crescent moon shone into the house as Thomas tossed and turned in the borrowed bed. He was running down a long corridor with seemingly no end, running from something, but he couldn’t say what. The nightmare continued as it had done every night he had had it for. Urgency was filling him as he was trying to find something, but he couldn’t find it. The darkness surrounded him and the sound of laughter, inhuman laughter, echoed around the walls. Thomas covered his ears with his hand and prayed for an end in sight, an end to the madness as the darkness covered him. He screamed louder but no one could hear him, no one could save him, he would die there, in that corridor but no one could find him to bring him the light that could chase away the shadows.

“Thomas!”

A loud call of his name broke through the laughter and Thomas sat up with a start with his hand outstretched ready to grab the throat of his unknown tormentor. Instead of seizing the neck of a monster, he had found himself grasping the suddenly wide-eyed Bastian around the throat instead. Shakily, he released him with a hurried apology.

The other man was half sitting on his bed watching him with concern while Lukas was in the doorway lighting more lanterns than just the one Bastian had brought in and left on the dresser. With more light being cast into the room, the shadows began to fade. Thomas collapsed back onto the bed and gulped in air. The nightmare had come again, just as he knew it would, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t know how to chase it away and prevent it from returning.

“Have you spoken to Tobias about this?” Bastian asked quietly, seeing the reaction his friend was having. “It’s not your first, is it?”

Thomas had no idea how Bastian could know that, but he didn’t care to question it. He instead nodded his head and swallowed hard. Lukas turned away from the doorway and disappeared down the hall. Thomas could hear his footsteps retreating downstairs; he didn’t know why, and he was too upset to care.

“What does Tobias say?” Bastian asked, soothingly rubbing Thomas’ arm gently as their eyes adjusted to the lantern light illuminating the room.

Voice croaking with disuse after shouting, Thomas swallowed hard and tried again. “He can’t do anything about it. He says they will pass with time.” He shrugged again and Lukas’ footsteps sounded on the stairs coming back up this time.

“Is it the same one every time?” Bastian asked and Thomas nodded. Another look of sympathy from the other man washed over his features and he moved over to squeeze Thomas’ shoulder. Lukas reappeared with a glass of water in hand. He handed the glass over to Bastian and Thomas sat up on his elbow to take a drink. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been fussed over like this. Usually after a nightmare, he would rouse himself and go sit in front of the forever-stocked fireplace and just stare into the flames until exhaustion took him and he could dream about nothing at all.

“Perhaps we should get Manuel to make an inquiry from his brother?” Lukas asked Bastian quietly but Thomas shook his head, finishing off the water with a large gulp.

“No.” He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after the tepid water made its way down his throat. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I will get over it.”

“We don’t doubt you, Thomas.” Bastian replied and shifted more onto the bed so that he wouldn’t fall off. He took the drained glass from Thomas and handed it back off to Lukas who sat it down. “It’s just that you shouldn’t have to suffer these nightmares if we can help it. You were screaming for several minutes before we came.”

Thomas groaned and laid back down, draping the crook of his elbow over his eyes. He was embarrassed beyond reckoning and he hadn’t wanted to draw such attention to his problems like this. There truly was no escaping it now; Bastian would never let it go until he promised to seek help from someone who could fix it.

“I don’t want the elves wrapped up in my sleeping habits.” Thomas muttered into his elbow, earning him to have to repeat himself when neither of them could understand him. He lowered his elbow and repeated what he had said as he looked at the pair of them, roused and mussed from having gotten up so quickly from their sleep.

Lukas appeared to be in thought for a moment. “I can go to the apothecary and see if she might have any ideas. I’ll tell her Basti can’t sleep.”

Bastian nodded his agreement and Lukas turned on his heel despite Thomas’ protests that it really was okay and they didn’t have to fuss. He really had forgotten what it was like to have someone worry over him just because of a nightmare. He sat up a little and looked at his hands.

“I don’t want to trouble you. I’m really okay.” He said with a sigh and looked up to Bastian, helplessly.

“I know, Thomas. But it would be perfectly all right if you weren’t okay as well. None of us would think poorly of you. You’ve had quite a rough time of it, maybe more so than most. It’s understandable if you can’t stay one-hundred percent strong all the time.” Bastian gave him a small smile and shifted off the bed to stand up. “I will leave you alone till Lukas comes back with whatever concoction the druggist gives him.”

He made to leave and Thomas swallowed hard. He didn’t want the shadows to come back, especially after what Bastian said. Maybe, perhaps, it would be all right to let someone in? Who better than Bastian and Lukas? He swallowed hard.

“Basti? You don’t have to leave.” Thomas replied quietly. Bastian looked over his shoulder with a ‘are you sure’ look. Thomas nodded and shifted on the bed. “I wouldn’t mind if you sat with me. At least till Lukas returns.”

Bastian gave him a small smile and then moved back over to sit on the bed. Thomas remained laying down and let out a long breath. Bastian didn’t ask him what the nightmare was about, nor did he promise everything would be fine and dandy afterwards. Bastian didn’t give him false hope nor did he speak words of false truths. All Bastian did was keep him company, provide him with companionship that Thomas had missed since the company had disbanded in the plains the night before that awful day.

By the time Lukas returned with a chamomile tea and a pillow made with lavender and aniseed, Thomas had already fallen back to sleep, curled around Bastian who was lightly stroking the king’s back rhythmically to help him fall asleep. Lukas smiled slightly at them both and almost was going to tease his love about possible infidelity but he resisted. Instead, he tip-toed over to where both of them were and laid the sleeping bag next to Thomas’ head and gave Bastian a small kiss on the lips before he left the two of them in the room to return to the bed that he usually shared with Bastian alone.

For the first time in a truly long time, with the smell of lavender to relax him and keep him safe in the arms of a peaceful rest, Thomas dreamt of Miroslav and it wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t a daydream he had while the sun was still high in the sky and he was distracting himself with a playful fancy. It was the first real dream he had of Miroslav without malice or without alternate intent.

In it, he and Miro were old with silver hair and they were walking arm in arm down the path that travelled through the forest of what looked like the Brundagir. All around them there was nothing but peace and the sound of birds in the trees. It was wonderful; it was tranquil. It was like paradise.

The lure of such a wonderful place helped Thomas sleep for the rest of the night and well into the next morning. Bastian and Lukas didn’t have the heart to wake him, and not even the smell of breakfast could rouse him.


End file.
